


somewhere in the woods, waiting

by rosielibrary



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Fluff, Swooning Over Stans: A Grunkle Dating Simulator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 00:13:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16843261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosielibrary/pseuds/rosielibrary
Summary: You look at Ford to find him smiling warmly, eyes bright with that “I have an idea” face.“Come with me.”(a follow-up fic for the follow-up game of gravity falls, swooning over stans: a grunkle dating simulator)(that i also wrote two and a half dates for)





	somewhere in the woods, waiting

You return in the fall, when the pine trees remain evergreen but the rest of the woods around your car shade red and orange in the last rays of the summer’s sun. Everything’s the same, exactly as you remember; the welcome sign, the town, the long, winding road you were dragged along against your will as a result of Ford’s magnet gun.

Except this time, you’re here on purpose.

Your heart thuds in your chest the closer you get to the house. You know you’re welcome— but you’re still nervous. It’s been a couple months since you were there… A couple months since all _that_ happened.

(Though you’d lie if you said you’re not glad it did.)

You pass the signs pointing to the shack and your stomach flips at the mere sight of the “Sascrotch to your left” that zips past your window. On your passenger side seat, your phone buzzes; a quick glance tells you it’s Mabel.

“ARE YOU CLOSE?? TELL ME YOU’RE CLOSE I WANNA SEE HIS REACTION ALREADY!!! :D”

By some manner of miracle, the kids got two weeks off from school (something to do with ridiculous California weather) and came to stay with Stan and Ford while they were serendipitously back home for a month— and, what with Mabel’s mass-update texts, you immediately caught wind. In a group text with her and Dipper, you made the plans: after they got there a few days prior, you drive up to surprise them.

Well, Stan knows. Mabel made sure it was okay with him first (which, of course, it was). You’re really just surprising Ford.

The two of you kept up the letter correspondence; it inspired you to hone your handwriting skills to be _somewhat_ on the level of his. With every stop at every port you got a new letter, along with a new postcard from wherever he and Stan ended up (which you have stuck up on your wall, of course). He detailed each new discovery and each new location; you kept him up to date with the mundanities of your life, after your road trip ended and you headed back home. The letters never got boring, even if you felt that yours did— Ford always found something to reply with, even if your last letter told of how you fell deep into a video rabbit hole about guinea pigs.

He wasn’t sure how that happened, but it _definitely_ piqued his intrigue.

You park in front of the house, remembering Mabel and Dipper’s operation: Dipper lured Ford downstairs to the basement for a DD&MD session while Mabel kept lookout. You spot her in the window and see her open her mouth in a squeal of excitement, quickly stop herself by covering it with both hands, and disappear from the window. As you climb out to grab your bag from the trunk she dashes outside, _leaps_ , and almost crushes you in a hug.

“I’m so so so glad you made it!! How was the drive? Was it super long? Did you play the songs I sent you?? You better have listened to It’s Not Gonna Be You by M-Syncronize, we gotta karaoke it!”

While you absolutely did listen to that, you don’t get a chance to reply as Mabel tugs you into the house, her babbling dropping into a whisper as she shuts the door behind her.

“Once I give Dipper the signal, he’ll come upstairs and—“

“Geez, kid, you didn’t crash your car here _again_ , did’ya?”

Stan crosses into the hallway and grins at you, folding his arms across his chest. You greet him with a laugh and a playful eye-roll; he pats your back, taking your case from your hand.

“I got this part. Mabel—“

“Let’s go!“

Stan takes your bag upstairs and Mabel pulls you into the kitchen, where she enacts “part two” of her plan. She whips out her phone and texts Dipper (and consequently you since she messages your group chat) a slew of emoticons: a car, two stars, that one moon with the weird face, at least five different hearts, and… a hand?? You can’t decode it, but apparently Dipper can. He sends an “okay” and Mabel squeals again, hopping onto a nearby chair and grinning at you.

“He’s gonna be so surprised! Me and Dipper made sure he had no idea what was going on, which is super hard for super- _nerd_ Grunkle Ford, but he’s got no clue that you’re here!!”

Replying with a nervous smile, you don’t dare trust your voice enough to speak. You fumble with your hands and where you stand in the room, leaning against the table, standing straight, crossing your arms, promptly uncrossing them. Mabel notices— she frowns, patting your arm.

“Hey, it’s gonna be great! Right? I know Grunkle Ford will be so happy to see you. I know he will. None of my matches have failed yet!”

“Yet” being the operative word here. You quietly thank Mabel, and she beams before you both hear the vending machine “door” open (why that’s not just a proper door yet is still beyond you).

“Dipper, I’m not sure why you needed me to come with you to get a drink—“  
“— Uh, i-in case I needed extra hands! Of course! DM’ing is thirsty work and… stuff.”

“I suppose that’s true, but you do have two hands.”

“Well, what if I needed two more? Or— Or four more, even?”

“Four?”

Dipper comes into the kitchen and waves at you, running to Mabel’s side.

“Why would you need four mo—“

Looking at you in disbelief stands Ford Pines himself, slack-jawed, stopped mid-sentence. You swallow thickly, a shaking hand raising in a small wave.

“Surprise!!”

Mabel probably expects you to run towards each other and start making out or something ridiculous, but both you and Ford freeze in place, just staring at each other. It’s been almost four months since you last saw him, after all. You just need to… Look for a moment.

“Hey, Mabel, was that Grunkle Stan calling us?”

“What? No it wasn— Hey! Dipper!!”

Dipper drags Mabel out of the kitchen and shuts the door behind him, shoving Ford forward a step. With the kids gone, you both exhale— and simultaneously start laughing.

“I— Oh my _god_ —“

In a burst of confidence Ford runs up and hugs you, his nose buried in your hair and arms tight around your middle. You’re still laughing in disbelief and elation as you return his embrace, inhaling and holding your breath, holding the moment as close as you hold him.

“I can’t believe— Why didn’t you say anything in your last letter? I would’ve— I could’ve prepared, I could’ve had chance to—“

You cut him off by asking if he knows the meaning of the word surprise. Ford pulls back and looks at you, all shy smiles and pink-tinted cheeks.

“— Well, of course I do. I just… I would’ve had time to get something ready for us to do. I wasn’t expecting… Did Dipper and Mabel do this?”

Partially, yes. You explain their plan and Ford searches your face, still grinning from ear to ear, hands still on your hips as you speak. He shakes his head fondly when you finish, leaning forward to press his forehead to yours.

“I’m… I’m so glad you’re here.”

You close your eyes, feeling the content smile spread across your face and Ford’s gaze on you.

“You well and truly surprised me, as you planned.” Ford laughs softly, hands tracing down your arms to catch your fingers in his. You’d forgotten the feeling of his six between your five— it brings such a sense of comfort you sigh, opening your eyes and grinning at him.

“And, apparently, as _you two_ planned.”

He detangles from you, turns, and sure enough— you catch the brim of Dipper’s hat duck behind the kitchen door. Ford swings it open to find both of them sitting just outside the doorframe, looking sheepish but giddy.

“We wanted to surprise you, Grunkle Ford!” Mabel throws a theatrical wink that Ford catches, chuckling. “I knew you two would be missing each other super badly so I planned the whole thing.”

Dipper elbows Mabel’s side.

“With a little help.”

“You just missed them, didn’t you?” Dipper’s question meets Mabel’s feigning innocent smile.

“I mean, yeah, I did.” Mabel rushes back up to you and clambers up on a chair, poking your cheek. “Look at this face! How could you not miss them?!”

Dipper rolls his eyes at Mabel’s lack of subtlety, but Ford very blatantly “looks at this face”.

“How could I not?”

It’s your turn to go pink as Mabel claps her hands together, ignoring Dipper’s joking retch behind Ford. Stan comes into the kitchen a beat later, ruffling Mabel’s hair before reaching into the fridge for a soda, and the four of you start chatting and catching up— Ford, however, remains fairly quiet. You recognize that expression: he’s deep in thought, looking between you and out the window, a hand at his chin.

“Hey, Ford? … Ford.” Stan waves a hand in front of his brother and Ford jolts to attention, “mhmm”-ing and trying to look like he listened to what he just said.

“Just askin’ what you wanted for dinner. The kids wanna go out—“

Dipper and Mabel start chanting “breakfast! for! dinner!”.

“— So I’m gonna take ‘em. Dunno if you two had plans.”

You’re about to reply when—

“Oh, we do, but thank you for the offer, Stanley. “Breakfast for dinner” another time, perhaps.”

You turn to Ford in surprise, but he doesn’t dare meet your eye. He answers Mabel’s excited question of where you’re going with “It’s a surprise— don’t know know that word by now?”

“Duh! But Grunkle Ford, I wanna know! Whisper it to me, real quiet, so they don’t hear. C’mon, _pleeeease?_ ”

Ford laughs, but elects not to say anything, and Mabel huffs as she stands from the table with Dipper and Stan. The three of them head out, but before they leave Mabel shouts to you that “you better tell me _all about it_ when you get back!”, winking at you before shutting the door.

You look at Ford to find him smiling warmly, eyes bright with that “I have an idea” face.

“Come with me.”

— — — — —

Ford leads you down the same path you took to find the Mothman, but once you reach the familiar stone marker, he continues past it. You follow him down and struggle to keep up— wherever you’re going, he’s in a hurry to get there. Asking where on _earth_ he’s taking you, you laugh as he clambers up atop a rock, waits for you to up, then promptly jumps to the other side. Ford holds out a hand to help you down.

“You’ll see soon enough.”

His confidence falters when your hand slips into his and you step down from the rock, hopping down at his side and swinging your arms back and forth. Ford goes to say something, closes his mouth, then presses onward, conveniently forgetting he’s still holding your hand as you walk. You don’t tell him otherwise.

By the time you make it to your location, told by Ford’s sudden halt in footsteps, the sun’s dipped behind the taller trees at your six o’clock and you meet Ford’s side, staring out over the hill.

You’d never noticed it before— you suppose you’d never really looked up while you were here, apart from at the sky with Ford— but the two cliffs circling Gravity Falls curve in such… surreal ways. Ford— nervous, at first— circles an arm around your shoulders, guiding your searching eye in the direction of his outstretched hand.

“I never got the chance to show you last time you were here; guess we were too, ah, busy— but look at the cliffs, their shape. What do you see?”

You look. You squint, turn your head to the side, make a rectangle with your forefingers and thumbs and frame the cliffs inside, making a face that nearly breaks when you hear Ford burst into laughter at your side. It takes a beat, but you finally see it—

“A UFO. Here! In Gravity Falls! Can you believe it? It crashed here eons ago, and yet there’s still unsolved mysteries— did the town’s weirdness attract it, vice versa, perhaps? Are they completely serendipitous events?”

You have no clue but _oh my god aliens_. Ford beams at your enthusiasm and his arm around your shoulders brings you a little closer. However, one question does make you stop and turn to Ford: where is it now, if it crashed here?

Ford looks absolutely delighted that you thought of that and he pulls away, holds up one, intellectual-reply-incoming finger— and promptly jumps into the air, then falls— with a clang that sounds incredibly uncharacteristic from a hill. Huh.

“While I’d love to take you inside the ship, I’m afraid I can’t. We both remember our last occurrence with the magnet gun— and while yes it is fixed now!— the previous visit into the ship was… dangerous, to say the least.”

And going after Mothman with a butterfly net and a phone flashlight wasn’t, you joke, but Ford fixes you with a certain look that makes you go silent.

“I… You just got back, after all. Let’s at least talk first.”

You can give him that. He smiles, rubbing the back of his neck and ducking his head to try and hide his red cheeks. You bend to meet his eye as he looks away, and you laugh, though his lopsided grin makes your face tint pink to match.

“Well, I— I didn’t really get chance to grab a lot, but—“

From somewhere within his coat (far more weather-appropriate in the fall) he pulls out two sandwiches in plastic baggies, two water bottles (“Thankfully Mabel ran out of… “juice” this morning), a few various snack packets, and— Jelly beans. Of course.

“Mabel got me these when she and Dipper got back— they’re from some amusement park near the capital.”

He squints at the label, fixing at his glasses.

“Horton Hoot’s So Many Tasty Beans? … Alright.”

You recognize the brand but stay quiet, trying to stifle a giggle. He’ll learn soon enough.

It takes you a beat to realize, after sitting atop the hill (on top of a damn UFO, no less) that you’ve not felt so content since your last visit. Months passed, yet it barely feels like two weeks since you were last here in Gravity Falls, with Dipper and Mabel, and Stan, and Waddles…

And Ford.

He fiddles with his sandwich bag at your side, oblivious, and you smile to yourself. It’s weird to think that just a few months prior you crashed into his house and your first impression of him was a hand, gentle at your chin, tilting you up to look at him. Even before you knew his name he was so careful, practiced… caring, if you’d known better. You remember each time you caught him staring at you before turning away, embarrassed and nervous— though that didn’t mean you were the innocent party here either.

Ford says your name, his call focusing your eyes on his and it clicks— he grins. Speaking of getting caught.

You press your lips together and attempt to suppress your own smile before you tuck into your sandwich. The hill goes quiet, save for the odd munch and crunch as you eat, though the silence feels comfortable, not forced. It reminds you of your other dates— quiet, though not silent.

Until a rustle alerts you to Ford oh-so casually scooting closer. You think about it— the two of you really shouldn’t be so nervous, after all— and you scoot so you’re hip to hip. He startles a little, yet doesn’t move, and you lean your head on his shoulder, sighing in content. Ford relaxes, yet hesitates before he snakes an arm around you.

“It really doesn’t feel like you’ve been gone for four months. I know we didn’t spend much time together, but… it felt like it went by so quickly when you were here last.”

You have to agree there; the period of time you spent at the Shack felt like a measly few hours rather than… however long it actually was. You go to try and count the weeks on your hand but Ford reaches, takes it, and threads your fingers together instead.

“I… I thought about it a lot when Stan and I left again. About— About you. I never had luck with this sort of thing in the past; if I could go back and tell my younger self that all of this would happen— not only you, but everything prior with the kids and Stan and… And Bill. If I could tell him the future, I’m sure he wouldn’t believe me.”

Ford pauses, looking out to the cliffs. You watch him, trying to chew as quietly as possible (even though popcorn is, unfortunately, notoriously crunchy).

“I was reckless, when I first moved here. Like I told you, it didn’t take long for me to get overwhelmed, but my way of curing that wasn’t one of my smarter choices. I pushed everyone away, even when their lives were in danger— I was desperate to be the lone ranger, the hero of everyone’s story, even if I had no clue how to do it.

Stanley… He did a lot more than anyone— than I— could have ever imagined. And Dipper, and Mabel, as well; two of the bravest kids I know.”

His sudden outburst of honesty shocks you into silence, letting him continue as the cliffs cast shadows over his profile.

“What you told me— what you taught me— at the lake, at the pool, everywhere else. It stuck with me.”

He goes to start another sentence, but decides against it— rather, he tucks a hand into his jacket’s inner breast pocket and pulls out a small, folded sheet of paper.

Paper that looks a lot like the ones in your notebook at home.

“Stanley told me it’s far too “mushy”, and to not tell you, but… I keep them with me. Your letters. Not all of them at once, or my pockets would be very full at this point—“

You laugh, yet tuck your head into the crook of Ford’s neck to hide your scarlet face.

“— But I’ve kept them all. … This one… Is the first.”

A crumple of paper tells you to follow it and you find Ford unfolding your very first letter to him. It’s only a page long, front and back, but as you see your handwriting backlit by the sun, you notice the pen’s noticeably smudged.

“I’ve ah— reread it a few times. — Just a few.”

Ford awaits your reply, but it doesn’t come. Rather, you sit up, shift a little, and pull his first letter from your pocket. At least now you’re not the only lame sentimental one.

As soon as he sees his curlicue cursive Ford lights up, shoulders drooping in simultaneous disbelief and comfort.

“You— So you—?”

_To… You._

_I never thought I’d have the chance to write all of this down. Mabel has still been trying to catch me in the act so she can tell you— but if I don’t do it now, I might never tell you at all. Even if I don’t muster the courage to give you this before Stanley fixes your car… I have to write it somewhere. Writing always comforts me, as you may have guessed._

_I’m not sure how these last few weeks occurred… Mostly due to Mabel. And Dipper, of course. But I can’t say they’ve not been some of the best — if not most peculiar— weeks I’ve ever experienced. And you’re to thank for that._

_As I told you before you left, I’m willing to give this a go… but I’m not sure how. I guess we’ll have to see how it goes with time. If I handed this to you before you left— or if you somehow found this— I can’t predict what happens next. If anything happens at all._

_But I’m trusting my written word over my spoken when I say I care deeply about you._

_Even if I never see you again, I’ll remember. Even if, by some miracle, I do see you again… Well, we’ll just have to see if when we get there._

_My letters will get much longer as we continue to correspond, but for now… Safe travels._

_Yours,_

~~Stanford Pines~~ _Ford_

Just like your letter under his reverent touch, his inked cursive smudges against the paper from months of re-reading— especially, obviously, at one particular sentence on the page. Ford’s focus flits between the letter and your face in bewilderment and you can’t help but start giggling just from his expression.

“So you… Want to keep this… going? Officially?”

You do. You carefully fold up his letter and put it back in your pocket, and not a second later Ford gingerly takes your chin in his hand and turns you to face him. An inch of breathing space keeps you apart; he glances down to your parted lips for a split second, apparently lost on what to say next.

So he doesn’t say anything.

Ford’s fingers at your chin slide to your jaw and tug you forward, closing the gap. You reach to cradle his cheek in your palm and he leans into your touch; he’s soft, careful, like you’re made of marble. Yet he’s gathering confidence— his hand at your hip tells you that much.

He pulls away, almost out of breath, and you both look at each other for a long moment, catching up with your pulse. Ford seems astounded at himself.

“Was that—“

You pull him back for another kiss before he finishes his sentence and his muffled “mhmm??” makes you smile against his mouth as you detach once more.   
“… I’ll take that as a yes.”

— — — — —

You make it back to the Shack just before Stan and the kids pull into the driveway. Mabel and Dipper _stagger_ in, stuffed full of breakfast for dinner and in the early stages of food comas, but as soon as the former twin spots you and Ford sat together, she regains her quintessential Mabel-energy. Stan, however, says he’s gonna take a much needed nap and heads upstairs.

“Grunkle Ford!! Did you guys have fun? Did you eat the jellybeans I got you yet?? I bet you’d really love ‘em!”

“Wait, make sure to read the ba—“  
Mabel claps a hand over Dipper’s mouth before he ruins the surprise. Ford arches a brow, but thankfully doesn’t question it.

Ford grabs the little box of jellybeans from his coat pocket and shakes them in your direction; you reach in and grab two— one dark green, one scarlet red. You very casually hand Ford the red one, taking the gamble on the green, and you wait for his reaction.

“… Oh! Mm. Cherry, I think. Are these really— what was it— “so many tasty” beans? This is fairly standard. What did you get?”

Grass. You got grass.

You scrunch your face up in disgust. Ford stares at you in horror before squinting down at the back of the box. Mabel and Dipper absolutely lose it.

“— These are not _so many tasty_.”

Ford’s sheer terror upon reading the flavors makes you reach back for another one— thankfully the blueberry-colored bean is actually blueberry. He takes one, pops it in his mouth, and goes very, very quiet.

“Mhm. Alright! This is definitely soap.”

The kids, still laughing from your Bad Bean, cheer Ford on as he valiantly swallows, and they each reach to grab one, tapping them together in a pseudo-toast before eating them. They both immediately gag— Mabel’s “earthworm” versus Dipper’s “cinnamon”, whose is worse? As you’re giving your answer you catch Ford’s gaze on you, wide smile tugging at his lips when you reach and squeeze his hand behind the table.

If you’re still wondering if your crash was fortuitous or suspicious, you definitely know the answer by now.


End file.
